My precious Jonathan -
I've been so busy these last 2 days. My world is falling apart around me and to take time to sit at a computer has been the last thing on my mind, although I've wanted nothing more than to talk with you and capture in writing everything that's been going on.
Two days ago Mom became very sick. She woke me up early Wednesday morning telling me that she had thrown up. When I was little, I remember Grammy telling me nothing takes a parent from complete unconsciousness to complete awareness than her child whispering, "Mom, I threw up." My in-field research shows this extends to spouses.
Mom had a lot of congestion, achey body, and GI issues which I won't name on the world-wide web. She was also running a high temperature (103+) which was really bad in her condition. The doctor that we weekly see referred us to our PPC as the symptoms appeared to point to a nose/ears/throat problem. We got right in to see him (10:30 am), and he felt like she could have the flu. Given the delicate nature of her condition, he prescribed 4 over-the-counter drugs to help her symptoms. Arriving back home, I gave her her first round of pills and she fell asleep. Around 5 that evening she got her second round of pills and went back to sleep, although not before I started taking her temperature. I was concerned that her fever wasn't going down. Checking it every thirty minutes over the hour confirmed what I was feeling - her fever wasn't subsiding with the Tylenol. In fact, the last time I checked it that night she was at 104.
At that point I was really concerned. Although I had tried to keep her hydrated and her electrolytes up, she was becoming rather delirious and I feared she was becoming dehydrated - another bad state to be in in her condition. I woke her up (she had been sleeping all day with the exception of the doctor's visit) and told her I was taking her to the emergency room. In speaking with the front desk there, we were directed to the Labor and Delivery ward. Interesting aside - if a pregnant woman walks into the emergency room with a broken arm or a pool ball lodged in her skull, she gets sent to Labor and Delivery. But I digress...
The fetal monitors they put on Mom showed that your heart rate was out of sink with her Braxton/Hicks contractions. Normally there would be a synchronized decrease in heart rate with an increase in contractions. What we were seeing was a decrease in heart rate only after the contractions subsided. The on-call doctor told us that this behavior is seen in some healthy babies, but all unhealthy babies have this behavior. He seemed to find hope in the fact that this could be because the dehydration and so they worked to get IV's into her. I have never seen an IV delivered so quickly. She received 3 bags (are those quarts? Nah... They're probably using metrics...) in the course of about thirty minutes. The 'drip, drip, drip' of a normal IV was a steady stream on hers. Even with that, your heart continued to do it's own thing. The doctor at that time felt we needed to move ahead with a C-section.
"How long do we have until we move her into surgery? A few hours?" I asked, thinking of all the family and friends I'd have to call and update.
"It takes me about 10 minutes to dress and scrub in," He said. "Anesthesia is thirty minutes. Jonathan will be extracted three minutes after that."
"Oh..."
And that, my friend, is the story of how you came into the world. It was never how mom and I had planned things. We had a whole list of things we wanted to get done before you got here. Oddly, "clean out the garage" was one of them. None of it really mattered, though, once they wheeled you out.
You.
Were.
Perfect.
The size constraints of the Internet keep me from fully documenting how amazing you were. All these tiny components coming on-line simultaneously to make-up a new creation blows... my... mind! And yet there you were in my arms, cooing and hungry for your first meal.
I'll have to go back and add pictures to this letter to support my claims, but eye-witnesses were agreeable. (ed. pictures added)
Mom, meanwhile, was kept away from you because doctors were beginning to think she had pneumonia, a theory that proved true as more tests came in. As a result, she didn't get to hold you until the following day.
I am goofy-in-love with you, Jonnie. I have a lot to tell you about your first day, but it deserves a letter unto it's own. It's also 3:15 Friday morning and I need rest, lots of rest. I think I've gotten 9 hours of sleep over the past 4 days.
I love you,
Dad
I've been so busy these last 2 days. My world is falling apart around me and to take time to sit at a computer has been the last thing on my mind, although I've wanted nothing more than to talk with you and capture in writing everything that's been going on.
Two days ago Mom became very sick. She woke me up early Wednesday morning telling me that she had thrown up. When I was little, I remember Grammy telling me nothing takes a parent from complete unconsciousness to complete awareness than her child whispering, "Mom, I threw up." My in-field research shows this extends to spouses.
Mom had a lot of congestion, achey body, and GI issues which I won't name on the world-wide web. She was also running a high temperature (103+) which was really bad in her condition. The doctor that we weekly see referred us to our PPC as the symptoms appeared to point to a nose/ears/throat problem. We got right in to see him (10:30 am), and he felt like she could have the flu. Given the delicate nature of her condition, he prescribed 4 over-the-counter drugs to help her symptoms. Arriving back home, I gave her her first round of pills and she fell asleep. Around 5 that evening she got her second round of pills and went back to sleep, although not before I started taking her temperature. I was concerned that her fever wasn't going down. Checking it every thirty minutes over the hour confirmed what I was feeling - her fever wasn't subsiding with the Tylenol. In fact, the last time I checked it that night she was at 104.
At that point I was really concerned. Although I had tried to keep her hydrated and her electrolytes up, she was becoming rather delirious and I feared she was becoming dehydrated - another bad state to be in in her condition. I woke her up (she had been sleeping all day with the exception of the doctor's visit) and told her I was taking her to the emergency room. In speaking with the front desk there, we were directed to the Labor and Delivery ward. Interesting aside - if a pregnant woman walks into the emergency room with a broken arm or a pool ball lodged in her skull, she gets sent to Labor and Delivery. But I digress...
The fetal monitors they put on Mom showed that your heart rate was out of sink with her Braxton/Hicks contractions. Normally there would be a synchronized decrease in heart rate with an increase in contractions. What we were seeing was a decrease in heart rate only after the contractions subsided. The on-call doctor told us that this behavior is seen in some healthy babies, but all unhealthy babies have this behavior. He seemed to find hope in the fact that this could be because the dehydration and so they worked to get IV's into her. I have never seen an IV delivered so quickly. She received 3 bags (are those quarts? Nah... They're probably using metrics...) in the course of about thirty minutes. The 'drip, drip, drip' of a normal IV was a steady stream on hers. Even with that, your heart continued to do it's own thing. The doctor at that time felt we needed to move ahead with a C-section.
"How long do we have until we move her into surgery? A few hours?" I asked, thinking of all the family and friends I'd have to call and update.
"It takes me about 10 minutes to dress and scrub in," He said. "Anesthesia is thirty minutes. Jonathan will be extracted three minutes after that."
"Oh..."
And that, my friend, is the story of how you came into the world. It was never how mom and I had planned things. We had a whole list of things we wanted to get done before you got here. Oddly, "clean out the garage" was one of them. None of it really mattered, though, once they wheeled you out.
You.
Were.
Perfect.
The size constraints of the Internet keep me from fully documenting how amazing you were. All these tiny components coming on-line simultaneously to make-up a new creation blows... my... mind! And yet there you were in my arms, cooing and hungry for your first meal.
I'll have to go back and add pictures to this letter to support my claims, but eye-witnesses were agreeable. (ed. pictures added)
Mom, meanwhile, was kept away from you because doctors were beginning to think she had pneumonia, a theory that proved true as more tests came in. As a result, she didn't get to hold you until the following day.
Your birthday started at 6:30 am on Wednesday and ended at 4:45 am the following day. I was utterly exausted but I have never been so happy.
I am goofy-in-love with you, Jonnie. I have a lot to tell you about your first day, but it deserves a letter unto it's own. It's also 3:15 Friday morning and I need rest, lots of rest. I think I've gotten 9 hours of sleep over the past 4 days.
I love you,
Dad
